


Be still, my heart

by Apsacta



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Another one for the weird ideas series, But also not, Gen, I'm kinda sorry, don't read too much into this, i don't even know at this point, it started sweet and got so weird, soft ramblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apsacta/pseuds/Apsacta
Summary: In which Brett has a series of one-sided conversations with a mythical creature strangely obsessed with his best friend.
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 19
Kudos: 65





	Be still, my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my gift of a ham-fisted metaphor, as an apology for all the sad stuff I inflict upon you, reader, with all my love.
> 
> (another one for the weird books. don't expect too much of it)

The first time Brett becomes aware of the creature’s existence, he is about six or seven years old.

He’s sleeping, a small form curled up in a sea of soft covers, dreaming about playing in parks and about busy streets that sound like home, when something wakes him up. It’s a soft, quiet noise, like a purring cat somewhere in the room. When he opens his eyes to grey and pink light filtering through the curtains, his tiny fingers fly up to his face, trying to rub the sleep away. The sound is still there, though, light and somewhat familiar.

It takes a moment before he notices the thing that makes the noise. It’s small, like it could fit in the palm of his hand. Pinkish white, the colour of plum blossoms. It’s living, too, with a back that rises and falls as it breathes. Brett tilts his head and watches. It’s a lizard, he thinks. A small lizard curled up on his bed, sleeping near his feet.

‘ _So cool_ ’ he whispers, not too loud because he doesn’t want to wake his parents.

There’s a lizard, sleeping on his bed. Purring.

So he pokes it with his finger.

“Hey!”

The lizard doesn’t move. So Brett does it again.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey!”

The creature opens one eye, then two. It doesn’t do anything, but the way it stares says it clearly.

_Go back to sleep._

When Brett wakes up again, a couple of hours later, there’s no trace of the lizard. He thinks he’s dreamt it. Probably.

*

It pops back in with a worrying regularity, until Brett gets to an age where he can no longer look at it in awe, like some sort of pet that only he can see, but with an increasing unease, like he’s probably hallucinating the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, there is something wrong with his brain.

He’s nine and it’s on his desk, suddenly, when he’s doing his homework, watching with interest. He wakes up to it sleeping on his chest, heavy and uncomfortable, when he’s twelve. It bites him, for the first time, vicious, vicious little creature, when he’s thirteen and taking a break from his violin practice to play computer games.

*

He’s fourteen and the lizard is back, blue like the colour of the Australian skies, on the morning of his first day with the Queensland Youth Symphony. He’s all kinds of nervous and worried, and does not have time for any of this. At all.

“Go away.”

He hasn’t talked to the creature since he was a child, and vaguely worries about his brain.

The lizard watches, huffs and puffs a little smoke, and Brett vaguely wonders if he’s lost it, thinks brain tumours and aneurisms.

“You can’t come.”

A growl.

“No. Go away. How long have you been here? Did you watch me sleep? It’s creepy as fuck. Ouch, don’t bite.”

When he gets down for breakfast, the lizard’s on his shoulder, violin side. If he tries to grab it to get rid of it, it bites down, ugly little fucker.

His mum sees. He knows it from the way she looks, and he expects her to freak out. He can tell her exasperation just by the way she says his full name as she motions for him to come closer. She’s irked, and she does that thing that all mums do when they’re annoyed, fusses over him, presses onto the lizard’s head with her thumb, pushes it down into his chest, says ‘keep it hidden, tsk, no good’. The look in her eyes says ‘what are we going to do with this child?’ She pushes his violin case in his hands, ushers him towards the door, ‘your father’s already in the car’. And like that he’s out the door and he doesn’t know what just happened.

He wants to think about what’s going on, have a proper freak out about it, maybe. He doesn’t have the time to, because they’re at the Old Museum building too quickly.

He’s with his dad and he’s too old to beg to go home, but he doesn’t think he can do this. They’re all over eighteen and he doesn’t know anyone, and this sucks so much.

And then suddenly, gratitude and relief flood his chest at the thought that he doesn’t have to do this alone, because just around the corner,

“You’re that guy from math tutoring!”

*

They grow up together and the lizard never really leaves, strange multicolour pet that lives inside his chest, but it mellows with the years, comes out with a reassuring regularity, every Saturday morning before he’s got to leave for rehearsal. His family seems to think it’s normal, somehow, so Brett stops worrying.

Sometimes, when he’s in a good mood, he tries talking to it, has sleepy conversations about his plans for the day, about the pieces he’s playing with the orchestra, about his music lessons. The lizard lets Brett pet him sometimes, sleeps in the palm of his hand, purrs a little when he touches it with careful fingers.

He’s sixteen when he tries to name it. It’s a ridiculous endeavour and he knows there’s no point, but he wants to anyway. He throws a couple of names in the air, sees if the anything sticks. Nothing seems good enough, and Brett gives up quickly.

The lizard doesn’t listen to anything or anyone, except Brett’s mother, who still pushes it back into his chest with a heavy pressure of her thumb whenever she sees it, looks at her son like she’s judging him so hard, never says anything about it out loud.

The only time the creature actually shows a little interest in Brett’s words is when he talks about Eddy, for whom the lizard seems to have a distinct fondness that must have something to do with Brett’s own feelings.

He can’t remember who threw the words best friends into the open for the first time, but nothing else fits, really. Logically, it shouldn’t feel like they’ve known each other forever, but there’s nothing logical in Brett’s life anyway, so.

Throughout the years, he’s gained a peripheral awareness of all things Eddy, whether they’re sat together in orchestra or not. They spend so much time together that Brett soon realises that he’s familiar enough with the way Eddy moves and speaks that he can anticipate most things he’ll do or say. It’s a best friends thing, he guesses.

It’s no wonder, then, that the first and only word that the lizard ever says is “Eddy”.

*

The creature gets restless, vicious, when he is seventeen and can no longer procrastinate on his decision to study music. He wakes up at night to bites on his chest, neck, jaw, feels the weight of it when he tries to get to back to sleep, the agitation inside of him when he tries to forget about it.

For the longest time, he talks about architecture and vaguely thinks that it’s something that he might enjoy, but he isn’t really sure that he’d be any good at it. His parents encourage him, as always, but they don’t seem to be opposed to anything else. And yet, every time he’s asked about his future, he feels a bite in his chest and it’s not easy to hide.

“I’ll study music.” He says the words to himself. If he hears it said out loud, maybe he’ll be certain that it’s the right call. Once he’s sure of it, he can tell the rest of the world.

Perched on the top of a chair, the lizard observes.

“I think it’s the right thing to do. There’s nothing I love more. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.”

The lizard tilts its head.

“Eddy.”

Brett nearly has a fucking heart attack.

“You fucking speak?”

“…”

“I fucking heard you. You’ve just spoken. You said Eddy, just now. I’m not fucking dumb. I won’t bother Eddy with this anyway. He’s got enough on his plate with all this med school talk. So, music?”

“…”

“Whatever. I don’t need your opinion.”

He gets a cloud of smoke puffed in his face for his arrogance.

*

It mellows at new when he gets to university, quiet again, no biting or clawing, lets Brett pet him, purrs curled up in the palm of his hand until the early hours of the morning, nuzzles his neck like a kitten. It’s hard to keep it hidden sometimes, but he usually succeeds. The trick is to ignore it and then it’ll go away. It doesn’t like to be woken up to practice, and seems to seriously dislike some of Brett’s girlfriends, but doesn’t act upon it. It’s more like an ornament then a pet, at some point. It doesn’t speak again until Brett’s last year.

It’s the year when he and Eddy start to make videos more seriously, and it’s a breath of fresh air in his otherwise stuffy life. It’s also the year he admits to himself that he probably will never be a soloist, something that he’s kinda known for a while, but didn’t have the guts to face. It tears through his chest to give up on his childhood dream, but Eddy’s there to share the pain, and it’s all good in the end. They’ll get through this like they always do, with a bit of luck and a lot of hard work.

People around him keep pushing him to continue his studies abroad and he doesn’t want to, not yet, not now. He’s afraid to disappoint.

“I don’t feel like it’s the right time for it, right…”

“Eddy,” the lizard says, knowingly.

“Yeah, no, let’s leave Eddy out of that, right? I’m not gonna go crying to him every time I’ve got a decision to make. Besides, he’ll have his own choices to make soon enough. Better not bother him right now.” 

*

When he moves to Sydney to join the SSO, the lizard follows and gets restless again.

Brett loves Sydney but the creature hates it. It never shows in the open, but Brett feels it hacking at his heart with teeth and claws, until he bleeds his homesickness all over the place.

Eddy visits regularly, and they film videos for TwoSet, but it’s not the same.

The lizard only shows up when Eddy’s there, and it gets harder to hide every time.

It leaps up in victory when he gives up his spot in orchestra, vicious, vicious little creature.

“Eddy.”

“Yeah, we’re going to see him all the time now. Happy?”

*

When they decide to take TwoSet on tour, Brett’s the first one to push for the kickstarter campaign. Eddy follows, because it’s what he’s done ever since he was thirteen.

He’d almost forgotten about the lizard when it shows up again the first night. It bites Brett until he bleeds, as he watches Eddy sleep on the street.

*

Being on tour is both the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to Brett.

They work through the organization through trial and error, and there’s a lot of errors, in the beginning. They learn about issues the moment they occur, and scramble to fix them last minute: they have to find a piano stool for one venue, learn that mics have to be on the right side, and that venues often underestimate the signing lines and the hassle that comes with it, nobody brings a hula hoop and they have to improvise an encore on the spot. They’re on the road for weeks and it’s exhausting. 

The energy’s amazing and it fills them with so much hope and pride. People come and see them. Their shows are sold out and sometimes they have two in a day. There’s nothing that can compare to the adrenaline beating at their temples before the show and the relief that washes over once they step off the stage.

They tour the world and it’s a dream come true, unexpectedly expected.

Brett wakes up one night to a familiar noise, quiet, soft, like a purring cat somewhere in the room. He opens his eyes and fumbles for his glasses. When he looks towards Eddy’s bed, the lizard’s there, bright pink this time, curled up in a tiny ball. Asleep on the pillow, right next to Eddy’s head.

He almost dies of shock.

“Get back here. Get – fuck – come here.”

Through hisses and whispers he gets the creature's attention – and thank god that Eddy’s a heavy sleeper. It opens one eye, bright yellow.

“Eddy.”

“Well no shit. If he sees you I swear I’m going to squeeze your head until your brain comes out.”

“Eddy”

“Shut the fuck up. Come back.”

He earns a bite on the neck for this.

*

TwoSet keeps growing and the lizard goes back to sleep inside Brett’s chest.

*

Before Twoset reaches two million subscribers, Eddy makes the stupidest joke. ‘ _Brett’s Tchaik drop at two mil!’_

It’s funny until it isn’t.

It’s funny until all the fans are expecting it, and it becomes another stupid promise that they made and have to honour.

Brett truly panics the morning of the livestream, when he’s alone in their living room because Eddy has ditched him for a last minute coffee run – _for courage_. He does what he always does to give himself energy. Jumps up and down in frantic frenzy and screeches a couple of times for good measure. Because why not.

The last thing he needs right now is a fucking interruption.

So of course, it’s what he gets.

“Eddy.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, no. Like, any time but now. Please.”

He could strangle the creature now, really, especially when it looks up at him, and happily quips ‘Eddy’ again.

“Jesus Christ, why are you so obsessed?”

“Eddy,” the lizard says with amusement, and the delighted chuckle that responds has Brett red to his ears.

And yeah, it’s Eddy, all right, standing in the doorway, all smiles, with an extra coffee for Brett. 

“Ah, yeah, I can explain,” Brett mumbles, but how could he, realistically?

“Nice dragon,” Eddy says, looking elated, and the dumb lizard has the nerves to purr louder than ever before.

‘It’s a lizard’, Brett says, but he looks at it, and… maybe it’s not? How is Eddy able to tell, anyway?

“Nah bro, that’s a dragon. He’s cute. I love him.”

Brett’s absolutely speechless, and the lizard-slash-dragon thing is absolutely delighted.

“Can I?” Eddy asks, extending a hand, and Brett hesitates, because that damn thing bites. So much. But not Eddy, apparently, because it’s quite happy to settle in the palm of his hand and fall asleep immediately. “Don’t be scared, hey, Brett. I’m not going to break it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this was, there was no plot and I don’t know what I’m doing. I get caught up in ideas and they refuse to leave me alone until I release them, like little lizards in my brain. Funny thing is, this isn’t even the weirdest one (butterflies in the stomach, anyone?). I hope it was at least a little bit entertaining, if nothing else.  
> Take care 🖤


End file.
